The Way It All Would End
by Phaser Lady
Summary: T'Pol lost her fight with Pa'Nars Syndrome. How did Trip deal her death? A story of anguish and healing.


Author: Phaser Lady Rating: PG Codes: Angst/Romance Characters: Trip/T'Pol (deceased) Summary: T'Pol lost her fight with Pa'Nar Syndrome. How did Trip deal with her death? A story of anguish and healing. Archive: Just get in touch with me first, so I know where I am. Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise doesn't belong to me, nor do the songs of Garth Brooks. But just because I don't own them doesn't mean I can't have my way with them.  
  
Author's Note: Thanks to all who reviewed. Only minor grammatical changes, nothing big. A special thanks to my beta reader (Erebus Dusk) for all of her time and support.  
  
The Way It All Would End  
  
It was a dark night. The moon was in hiding behind a thick layer of black rain clouds. Content to reflect the mood of one human in particular, the storm gave neither cracks of thunder, nor flashes of lightning. It only released the rain it had built up, had been saving just such an occasion.  
  
Humans in general were a bit odd. They all seemed to fancy their mood affecting the weather or other natural disasters. They were even audacious enough to think that their copulation had the power to move the earth. In all honestly, the weather did not care one way or another about the human life that infested the planet. But nor did the weather consider itself unsympathetic to the plights of human life. Far from it, in fact.  
  
The weather had discovered long ago that when one individual's emotional state was just so, that the weather could influence that individual's mood. One of the best tricks was when the weather would take an unsuspecting miserable human by surprise, paralleling the human's misery in such a way that their misery deepened. The weather very much appreciated it when one silly human or another acknowledged the fact that even the weather was against him or her. It made for a very interesting show.  
  
Once again caught in a mischievous mood, the weather singled in on its intended target, one very lonely, very depressed, very miserable human, presently sipping his coffee somewhere in Texas.  
  
* * *  
  
Charles Tucker sat in a corner booth of a nightclub in Dallas. Well, it was more of a honky-tonk than a traditional nightclub. This particular honky-tonk was unchanged since its birth just before the turn of the 21st century. Country music from the same era was playing from the honest-to- goodness jukebox in the opposite corner, neon lights and chrome detailing flashing in all their tacky glory. It was a weeknight (which one exactly, Tucker didn't care), and the chaos and excitement of the weekend was absent.  
  
"Trip!"  
  
Tucker jerked his head up, looking around wildly. No one was paying attention to him, and the only disturbance was a waiter, regaining control of his rebellious food tray. He returned to his coffee, thinking that it was not what he really wanted right now. It had been a long time since anyone had called him by that nickname. He wondered why he even bothered to respond to it anymore. With a rueful twist of his lips that wasn't quite a smile, he acknowledged to himself that he knew exactly why.  
  
He forced his rebellious thoughts back into the depths from whence they came. It was no good dwelling on the past. It wasn't like it would bring her back. Oh, he'd tried, of course. He'd wished with all his might, hoped beyond all hope, and downright begged on his knees, harder and more deeply and sincerely than any man ever had. But it was to no avail. He'd known that to begin with, but he'd had no other way to get through the overwhelming grief and agony. It was said that time healed all wounds. Jon had certainly tried to tell him that. But Tucker knew it was a lie. He'd known it then, just as he knew it now, for the pain and sorrow and despair were no less now than they had been then.  
  
And, in his own masochistic way, he didn't want the pain to lessen. He was afraid that if it did, he might forget her, he might forget to try to forget her, to act as though he had forgotten her. He had fooled the world, or so he repeatedly told himself, in a futile attempt to convince his mind of it. But deep in his heart, he knew it was a lie. He had fooled no one. He never would. Trip knew this. But Trip wasn't there anymore. He was locked away, deep inside, in the place where he couldn't lie to himself.  
  
The music abruptly changed from something about "Xs and Os", to a slower, more gentle melody. A man's voice came on, and it sounded sad. Caught up puzzling over what the man had to be sad about, Tucker forgot to not pay attention.  
  
//Looking back on the memory of// The dance we shared 'neath the stars above// For a moment all the world was right// How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye//  
  
Had he been in a better mood, Tucker might have given a snort. But all he could manage was a sarcastic remark to the voice. Well of course she said goodbye. Isn't that how these things always work out? Some people seemed to think that the hole they lived in was theirs alone, that no one had any idea. His attention now caught up in the song, the engineer continued to listen.  
  
//And now, I'm glad I didn't know// The way it all would end the way it all would go// Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain// But I'd have had to miss the dance//  
  
Tucker was confused. What was so special about one dance? The girl had left him, hadn't she? How could he cherish any memory of her, when she'd hurt him? He shook his head. How could this man, fictional though he may be, be able to forgive, to heal? When he, Charles Tucker, could not? How dare he. Tucker was more deserving of the absolution. What had this guy done for the world? He hadn't lost a sister and gone on to save the world from her murderers, had he? He hadn't been the chief engineer of the first Warp 5 starship. And he certainly hadn't saved his t'hy'la from going insane in the Delphic Expanse. What had he done to deserve it?  
  
//Holding you I held everything// For a moment wasn't I a king// But if I'd only know how the king would fall// Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all//  
  
Ha! Tucker thought triumphantly. He didn't mean any of it. He would have saved himself from the pain. He said so himself. He hated it when people stood up for something, bragged and flaunted their cause, crisis, epiphany, or near death experience, and then turned out to be fakes. There wasn't any honesty left. A person thought they had the right to play on the sympathies of others, use pity to further their standing in life. That was one thing Charles Tucker had NOT done. He'd gotten more than his share of sympathy and pity, of course, but he never abused it. Hell, he'd never even acknowledged it. He didn't want to be treated any differently. She'd died, that was it. It wasn't like she was the only gal he'd ever loved. She was just the only one he'd ever really loved.  
  
//And now, I'm glad I didn't know// The way it all would end the way it all would go// Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain// But I'd have had to miss the dance//  
  
There was that lone dance again. What in hell was so darned special about it? Life was random, and planning got you nowhere. So what else was new? Tucker leaned back in his booth, steeling himself to listen to the rest of the rotten song. He needed something to complain to somebody about, anyway. Everybody was entitled to a good rant now and then. He had it coming.  
  
He sipped his coffee, thinking that maybe he should order that drink. He wasn't flying himself home, after all. The ground cars these days had this nifty feature, called autopilot, adapted for ground cars by yours truly. The feature was so popular now, and so reliable (thanks to long hours put in by guess who?) that the Safety Bureau was even considering making it a standard appliance in all cars. All in all, that investment had turned in a pretty penny for Tucker, not that he had the motivation to really make use of any of it. He kept what he needed, but couldn't bring himself to enjoy the rest of it. Instead, he donated it to friends in need, funded infant businesses that needed some help getting off their feet. And the rest, which was a good percent of the whole, was sent to a certain Denobulan doctor, in charge of the Research Center for the Cure to Pa'nar Syndrome. From there, Tucker had no idea where the money went, and frankly he didn't want to. He had been berated by many in the Medical field- especially Vulcans- that it was illogical, wasteful, even, to fund research for such a rare disease. Only the Melders caught Pa'nar Syndrome, so why not fund the search for the cure to something that would benefit entire populations. Needless to say, Tucker had come to blows once or twice with the arrogant SOB that felt the need to share his thoughts. At least he had had the control not to knock the snot out of anyone important; even as much as he had wanted to pulverize that one diplomat...  
  
Jon could never understand why their opinions ate at Tucker so. But Malcolm knew. The Brit too, heard the veiled insults in the opinions. They were all of the opinion that she had been a Melder. Why bother with the welfare of a stigmatized group? (To hell with the fact that they were your own people.) They were all calling her a disgrace, each and every one of them. And THAT was what ate at Tucker: the dirtying of her name, of her memory, of all that she had stood for, all that she had achieved. The dark looks sent by Tucker and Malcolm had often been enough to silence whatever numbskull was talking, but when it wasn't, it was a comfort to Tucker to know he was not alone in his fury.  
  
Once again, Tucker forced his undisciplined thoughts back into their cage. She was gone, and there was no point in getting riled up all over again over something that wasn't going to change. Without consciously realizing who had taught him how, he blanked his mind and allowed the end of the song to flow through him.  
  
//Yes my life I better left to chance// I could have missed the pain// But I'd have had to miss the dance//  
  
What was so special about that dance? Every couple had a dance. Usually it was on a night when both were spiffed up, looking their finest. A lot of couples had one special dance, one that they would never attempt to reenact, because the first time was so special, so perfect. It was a dance that they didn't want to repeat, because the memory alone was the sweetest thing in the world. It was a memory that a man called upon when the love of his life was off the ship, was assisting the captain in a diplomatic happening. The scene would serve to tie him over for another few hours. And at night, alone in his bunk, he would recall every detail of the night, how her small, curving figure felt in his arms, how her dark brown eyes sparkled, how it felt to press against her so close that he could feel her heartbeat. And the feeling of floating as she laid her head against his shoulder would sustain him through the night, guaranteeing her presence in his dreams.  
  
Tucker didn't even realize he was caught up in his own memories now. He hadn't let himself remember them in years; they were just too painful. But the song had lowered his walls, and the memories were now coming in a steady unceasing flow. Their first kiss.sneaking glances at each other on the bridge.their conversations over dinner with the captain, peppered with double entendres. how she looked at him every time she came down to engineering. He shivered despite himself; just the memory of her intense gaze was enough to affect him.  
  
He remembered how she had looked at his birthday dinner. The Captain had made it a surprise for him. Malcolm had gotten him into his formal attire, feeding him some cock and bull story about a surprise for Hoshi. Trip had known how in love Malcolm had been with Hoshi, so how could he let his friend down? He remembered walking into the Mess Hall and being greeted by low lighting, tasteful decorations, and easy music. Three tables, pushed up against the opposite wall, were heaped with presents wrapped in bright flashy paper. To say nothing of the people. The sight of the beaming faces of the crew had almost undone him. They'd done so much to please him, and their happiness was dependant upon whether or not he had fun. He'd accepted the happy birthday wishes with an all out Florida Sunshine Smile on his face. But what had floored him was the sight of their Vulcan Science Officer in the knee length, low cut, flowing black dress. She'd even foregone the duty boots for a pair of stiletto heels. Her hair, longer since their mission to the Delphic Expanse, was parted on the side and combed in a much less severe, and more alluring style. Around her neck was the simple diamond pendant he'd given her. Never, in Trip's mind, had a woman looked sexier.  
  
The evening had been a great success. Malcolm had even asked Hoshi to dance, resulting in the monopolization of her attention for the rest of the night. A slow song had come on, one Trip knew by heart. It was over one hundred and fifty years old, not new by any stretch of the word, and yet it had endured to the present day. He had asking the sexy Vulcan for a dance, making a show of gallantly leading her to the middle of the dance floor. After that, he'd been oblivious. He hadn't noticed-nor had she- the couples leaving the floor to allow them their moment. As Tracy Bird sang all of his emotions, Trip had lost himself in his lover.  
  
//It was no accident// Me finding you// Someone had a hand in it// Long before we ever knew// Now I just can't believe// You're in my life// Heaven shining down on me// As I look at you tonight//  
  
I tip my head// To the keeper of the stars// He sure knew what he was doing// When he joined these to hearts// I hold everything// When I hold you in my arms// And I've got all I'll ever need// Thanks to the keeper of the stars//  
  
The feel of her in the slinky dress, pressed close to him, had burned itself into his memory. He could remember the delicate scent that was purely hers, the smooth skin of her neck and arms. He had sensed her complete surrender to him, her complete trust in him, that she didn't care who was watching. For a time, they'd only stared into each other's eyes. Trip had found himself lost in the chocolaty depths of hers, in the beauty of her soul. The lights had been dimmed, and so he saw the starlight reflected in her eyes, and the love and feelings he felt for her. She had given a gentle sigh, just before abandoning herself to his male presence and relaxing into his embrace. Then she'd laid her head on his shoulder, and Trip's heart had constricted at the amount of love and tenderness he felt for her. It had been well into the next song before they'd released each other and returned to reality.  
  
He also remembered, much to his regret, watching her health fail, watching her lose her control, as the Pa'nar Syndrome took hold. Trip had been able to feel her bones through her skin the last time they'd made love. Their touches had increased in frequency, she no longer wanting to hold them off. And then had come the pain. It had been manageable for her at first. But the disease was vicious. Week after week, she had endured, and week after week, the pain increased. He'd held her at night, as tears ran down her face and her small frame trembled with the extent of it. But God help her, she'd never made a sound. She'd never pushed him away. Very near to the end, she demanded to be released from Sickbay to their quarters. The captain had willingly ordered Trip off active duty for as long as it took. He hadn't left her side but to attend to personal hygiene. He'd sacrificed scented soap, shampoo, and shaving cream, because her sense of smell was so sensitive. He'd fed her pecan pie one last time, only hours before the end, tears running down his face at how hard she had to work at simply swallowing.  
  
When the end finally came, she was in his arms, as he whispered sweet nothings to her one last time, as she grazed his mind with hers, finishing off her depleted strength to give him one last kiss. And then, with a contented sigh, she had left him.  
  
The galaxy hadn't stopped rotating; the Universe hadn't observed a moment of silence. The warp core had continued to hum, and the stars had streaked by, unaware. He'd clutched her body to him, willing her to take another breath, even though he was relieved her pain had ended. He'd not bothered to call Phlox, refusing to let the sobs come out. She was at peace, not in pain any longer. He would not mourn her relief and peacefulness. But he couldn't stop the tears. Trip had been locked away then, and Tucker had taken his place.  
* * *  
He was unaware of the fact that he was crying, so caught up was he in his memories. The waitress had wisely left him to his mourning. With a sudden, painful, clarity, Charles Tucker III understood the song that had started his walk down memory lane. It wasn't about a fake sorrow, nor it was it about healing. It was about the one moment that made life worth living, the one moment that could never be duplicated. It was about one man's true love, about his despair as she left him, left him still loving him. In that instant, Charles Tucker III was joined by Trip, and Charles "Trip" Tucker III mourned. He let loose a wail of turmoil and pain suppressed for years, bringing it up from the depth of his soul. And he allowed the sobs locked inside to take him, as his entire body shook with the weight of his loss.  
* * *  
  
Sitting beside him, as she had throughout the years, T'Pol absolved him of the darkness he'd carried in his soul. She raced through him, pulling the darkness up from every fiber of his being, then sending it up, up, to the storm above. Now, her t'hy'la's soul could heal.  
  
The Dance- Garth Brooks  
  
Looking back on the memory of The dance we shared 'neath the stars above For a moment all the world was right How could I have known that you'd ever say goodbye  
  
Chorus And now, I'm glad I didn't know The way it all would end the way it all would go Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain But I'd have had to miss the dance  
  
Holding you I held everything For a moment wasn't I a king But if I'd only know how the king would fall Hey who's to say you know I might have changed it all  
  
Chorus And now, I'm glad I didn't know The way it all would end the way it all would go Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain But I'd have had to miss the dance  
  
Yes my life I better left to chance I could have missed the pain but I'd Of had to miss the dance 


End file.
